


Ultraviolence

by Violette_Pleasures



Series: Love and Violence [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bottom Carl Grimes, Carl Grimes is a Little Shit, Daddy Kink, Denial of Feelings, Face Slapping, Lana del Rey aesthetics, M/M, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Sweet Negan (Walking Dead), Top Negan (Walking Dead), You'll see what I mean, again kind of??, kind of??, my cotton candy heart couldn't resist putting some fluff in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 03:44:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12696636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violette_Pleasures/pseuds/Violette_Pleasures
Summary: Negan has always had a propensity for violence. Something in his wiring was just off and somewhere along the way, love and lust and violence became damn near synonymous. Its a good thing Carl feels the same way.(fluffier than the tin reads)





	Ultraviolence

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo everyone (nvn)/This is my first time writing these guys, so I'm a little nervous posting nvn; please be gentle!
> 
> I've been sitting on this idea (inspired by Lana del Rey's Ultraviolence) for a while now, just not known which fandom to write it for, but then I fell into this lovely waste receptacle that is the Cegan fandom and thought it was perfect for them nvn I've marked this as underage purely for just to be safe reasons as Carl can easily be interpreted as any age.
> 
> header image made by yours truly...feel free to dl and use as a lockscreen or whatevs, it fits my phone screen like perf so ye...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Negan learned from a young age that violence had a nasty habit of turning him on. Disgusting, really. Grappling with his teammates during wrestling practice became a slow, sweet torture. Pinning them down, unable to restrain from grinding his aching hard on into someones leg, hip, butt, just a quick, rough press to relieve the ache that could easily be blown off. Back then, he could blame it on boyish enthusiasm and simply having a warm body beneath him.

  


Then it transformed into something darker entirely. The first time he popped a boner while beating a man, whose face he could barely remember now due to his drunkenness, to near death with his bare knuckles purpling and splitting with the force, white hot rage in his veins, it scared the shit out of him. Guilt was immediate, then came curiosity, gnawing at his brain with all sorts of what ifs and maybes. He hated himself for even pondering all of it.

  


Then the dead decided it was a merry fuckin' idea to get back up and start parading around like it was mardi gras and they just forgot their second line umbrellas back at home.

  


The apocalypse only exacerbated the issue. Violence was the currency of the times and Negan was a rich man. He had every reason and excuse to exercise his fury and his body, beating people and those undead fuckers until his limbs were sore and his jeans were way too tight. He didn't feel guilt over it like he used to and that seemed to help quench the deeper thirst he used to carry around like a mule with a too heavy pack.

  


In many ways, this new world had benefited him, not just with his position as leader of the Saviors, but it had brought out the best in him, the ruthlessness in him, what the old world would have shamed him for. Negan was a man made for the end times.

  


And so was Carl.

  


Negan found his match, his soulmate, in a little one-eyed boy raised and tempered by the hellfire of this world. He was cunning and quick, killing and defending himself was second nature, a reflexive knee-jerk reaction. Negan could see that the gentleness with which Carl presented himself to others, to his friends and family was just that, a show. He saw and felt a kinship to that blood lust spark in Carl's eye the first time he saw him take down a small group of walkers with nothing more than a pocket knife.

  


Negan knew right then and there, he had to have him. Fuck Rick, fuck Alexandria, hell fuck the _Saviors,_ he needed that boy at his side like he needed the foul smelling air to keep on living.

  


It took a while for Carl a while to see things his way. At first, all he could think of was vengeance and how Negan had killed his friends, but eventually, through the short visits and stolen moments hiding behind empty houses or climbing into the back of a truck, Carl began to see what Negan had been trying to show him all along: This new world was theirs for the taking, they only had to reach out and take it...and Carl was a boy made for the end times.

  


He didn't stop to contemplate it, what this thing developing between them was, for once letting himself run on autopilot, not calculating his moves ahead of time like he usually did. Because that's what made it feel real. That's what made those few and far between precious moments he got with Carl something completely extraordinary.

  


The mind blowing, life affirming sex they had as often as time and space permitted wasn't half bad either. Cherry on his fuckin' sundae. Carl really was a little cowboy, came by that title honestly.

  


“C'mon, I already cleared the first floor, old man.” Carl smirked, cockily resting his hip against the frame of the front door. Night was quick approaching and they needed a place to crash.

  


“Old man is it now?” Negan smirked as he sauntered up to Carl, leaning into his space. “Last night it was 'Daddy!', 'Daddy make me feel good!' “ He pitched his voice higher, mocking the teen.

  


“Fuck off...” Carl blushed, scowling hard.

  


“Love you too, angel.” Negan laughed at the kid's expression as he walked passed him.

  


After everything was secure, they started to explore the rundown house they had come across. They somehow ended up in the attic looking through boxes of musty old photos and baby clothes to pass the time.

  


“Who do you think they were?” Carl mused as he ran a finger down the glass of a dusty frame.

  


“I don’t know. A family? Look pretty normal to me.” Negan shrugged, continuing to leaf through old papers, tax forms and pay stubs mostly. “They got those professional photos at malls and such almost every year. Probably nothing too exciting.”

  


“That’s not what I meant, Negan.” Carl rolled his eye as he picked up another photo. “Who do you think they _were_? Like look at this girl,” he pointed a dirty finger at the teenage girl standing next to what may be her mother. “Do you think she was a good girl? Went to bible study every week, never even thought about a boy’s dick? Do you think she was the school slut?” He smiled, a little self satisfied thing.

  


It took Negan a second, but he caught onto the game. “Hmm, definitely not the school slut. I know that look.” He couldn’t help his own self satisfied smirk. “I think she was in the home ec club. Probably liked to bake and sew, dreaming of one day becoming the perfect little house wife.”

  


“Too bad she married a man with a drinking problem who hits her and calls it true love.” Carl huffed a laugh through his nose. “What about mommy dearest and dear old daddy?”

  


Something about the way Carl said ‘daddy’ gave Negan a thrill shiver. “Mommy tried too hard to stay who she was in high school, exercised and dieted all the time. Probably still wore her cheer leading uniform in the bedroom sometimes.” The idea of Carl in that same supposed uniform had his sudden, strange arousal making itself known.

  


“Mm, and Daddy fucked her _hard_ , used her up. Daddy was also fucking the baby sitter.” Carl licked his lips and shifted a little in his jeans.

  


Negan knew that look from mile away. Somehow, this was turning Carl on. This heady cocktail of love and violence. He had to bite hard at the inside of his cheek, keeping that black hungry monster in him at bay. He wanted to hit Carl, make him bleed a little, hear him say it felt like a kiss as he fucked _him_ hard. He wanted to hear the difference between Carl’s moans of pain and pleasure, wanted to know what it sounded like when the two blended together into one indecipherable noise.

  


He'd never once hurt Carl, not intentionally, at least. Getting elbowed in the face running from walkers and getting a bloody nose does not count. Sure he was rough with the boy, the times and situation called for it, but he had never had any urges directed towards Carl before. Mostly, he wanted them to break, maim, tear, shred together, always together. In his twisted fantasies, Carl was always right at his side, a starving baby bird tucked under his black leather wing as Negan fed him with bloody, visceral kisses to his full lips.

  


But now, Carl was the subject, the victim of one of his disturbing fantasies and for the first time in a long time, Negan was terrified. He didn't want to hurt Carl. If he let himself have just a taste, just a swipe of frosting from the hidden side of a cake when no one was looking, would be able to stop?

  


“Who are you in this fantasy that's getting you so hot in those ratty Levis, hmm?” Negan scooted closer, leaving tracks in the dirt as he moved. He smirked as he eyed Carl, making sure he saw when he pressed his palm into his own growing erection,letting him know he was just as turned on.

  


Carl bit his lip, looking Negan up and down, his breathing already picking up, eye already darkened. “The baby sitter...” He moved into Negan, opening those long legs that fit perfectly on his shoulders as an invitation. “...the homewrecker.”

  


“We better hurry then, before my wife gets home, little boy.” Negan grabbed the boy's hips, easily lifting him to straddle his lap and ground his rock hard length into Carl's plush, baby boy ass. “Don't want to get caught.”

  


“Fuck...” Carl breathed a shuddery laugh, lips quirking upwards. Just the concept of the scenario had him instantly hard and rolling his hips into his older lover and Negan ate every bit of it up. He loved how responsive Carl was. No amount of world or life experience could cover up that Carl was a teenager. Getting a teen off or even just getting one hard, was nothing spectacularly impressive, but his youth was a gift. Stringing Carl out, turning him into a completely wrecked mess was something Negan lived for. Negan had the patience ingrained into his muscles that Carl still lacked and he could get Carl off multiple times in one night if he so desired and, usually, he did, while he let the slowly mounting pleasure make for a mind blowing climax that left them both exhausted.

  


“Am I gettin' you hot, baby girl?” Negan teased, running his lips ticklishly light over Carl's throat, tongue flicking out to taste his Adam's apple as it bobbed on a hard swallow. “You gettin' wet for Daddy?”

  


“I'm not a girl, asshole.” Carl managed as his neck was assaulted by two rows of perfect, straight white teeth. His whimpers were surprisingly feminine, despite his protests, but Negan didn't point it out, didn't want to upset his little buckaroo's apple cart too much and have him storming off in a huff.

  


“I know, baby boy...can't blame me for teasing.” Negan smirked just before their lips connected, running along the edge of Carl's jaw to the corner of his mouth. He let Carl control the kiss, hungry and rough, teeth nipping and biting and Negan let him, gave him permission by just holding on tight to Carl's tiny little waist. He groaned when Carl started grinding into him, his little prick nearly stabbing him in the thigh. Instantly, his hand slid into Carl's back pocket, grabbing his ass and rocking them together more forcefully.

  


Carl suddenly pulled back and shoved Negan hard onto the ground, knocking the wind right out of him. He looked down at the older man with a cold smirk and a twinkle in his eye that Negan could only call malicious. His narrow hips continued their slow grind as he looked Negan over like prey. Carl brought his thumb to his mouth, nibbling at the nail, obviously contemplating something.

  


“What is it, angel? You forget how this works?” The corner of Negan's mouth barely lifted. In this moment, Carl felt dangerous. Blood running cold, goosebumps in the middle of summer dangerous.

  


“Promise you won't get mad?”

  


“Of course not.”

  


Carl drew back and backhanded Negan across the jaw. He was so shocked, Negan didn't know what to say or do for a moment. He never expected that. He slowly turned his eyes back to Carl's, earth meeting sky, his nostrils flaring as his own breathing started to pick up. Carl slapped him again and god did that sting make him feel alive. That it was his hot little honey inflicting the damage only had him getting harder.

  


Negan flipped them easily, Carl's body landing on the old, grey wood with a hard thud. A moan was punched out of Carl along with his breath. Negan pinned the teen's wrists above his head with one hand, grinding the little bones together, as he loomed over him. A hard thrust against thinning denim had Carl wriggling to free himself.

  


“Ah ah ah, honeybunch.” Negan wiggled his finger, obnoxiously saccharine and reproachful. “Bad little boy's don't get to use their hands. Maybe I should just tie you up.”

  


His hand was already at his belt buckle, unfastening it and pulling it agonizingly slow through the loops. He wrapped one end around Carl's wrist and back through the buckle folding the belt over under into a pair of cuffs that should keep his boy still long enough. His tongue poked out between his teeth with his Cheshire grin as he looked over his handiwork and Carl's body stretched out long beneath him. “There we go.”

  


Carl was still looking up at him with that unreadable but dangerous look, sparks coming off a flint. It made Negan's blood pump hard. He could tell he wasn't satisfied though, that Negan wasn't playing out his fantasy quite right. He arched an eyebrow at the boy, a silent question.

  


“I want to be the daughter now...” Carl breathed and someone so young and inexperienced should not be as provocative as he is in that moment. Pouted lips parting and curving around words in a way that screamed sex and fuck me without actually saying it.

  


It took Negan a moment to catch on again, Carl seemed to have the upper hand tonight, obviously seven steps ahead and he was chasing breadcrumbs to find the path home. Negan bit his lip as he wrapped a hand around Carl's throat and leaned in so close, his breath was puffing out hot against his cheeks. “You want me to hit you and make it feel like a kiss, angel?”

  


“God yes. Please.” Carl arched up into Negan, begging with his body and his hot little mouth. “Please, daddy.”

  


“Be a good boy and keep your arms above your head, then.” Negan rested back on his heels waiting for Carl's jerky nod. The boy was already looking so debauched at just the idea, the anticipation, Negan couldn't wait to see what he looked like after he actually had an orgasm.

  


He drew back and slapped Carl hard across the face, his dick pulsing in time to his throbbing palm. Negan's whole body felt like it was thrumming to life in a whole new way. He'd never had a willing partner to work through all this pent up destruction and rage with before. He slapped the boy again and Carl just looked up at him in pure, lustful adoration and Negan felt like a god. Carl's god.

  


“Again.” Carl begged, cheeks already turning the dark red that meant a bruise was not far behind. He jutted his chin forward, antagonizing and mocking Negan. “It doesn't feel like a kiss yet, daddy.”

  


Negan growled as he pulled back and struck Carl hard on the chin, splitting his lip. His vision tunneled down to just the blood trickling down the boy's chin, a rivulet of garnet. His chest was heaving, something powerful, stronger than any drug he'd ever tried, and primal was coursing through his body like molten metal poured into a mold.

  


“Fuck.” Carl whined, licking at the cut on his lip. His eye was shining through the glass filter of unshed tears and Negan couldn't help thinking he was absolutely fucking breath taking like this.

  


He didn't even wait for permission, just dove in and took and took and took. He kissed the metallic copper tang of blood right out of Carl's sinful little mouth, drinking down all his sighs and moans. His fingers fumbled dumbly in his haste to remove Carl's jeans, nearly tearing the worn denim to shreds to get to that milky, cream silk skin. Negan ripped his flannel, buttons clatter skittering across the floor. The concave of Carl's ribs as he breathed hard and harder had Negan wanting to fill that hollow with his own breath, replace the air in his lungs with his name.

  


“Negan...please...” Carl writhed beneath Negan so needy and desperate for release and he was going to give him exactly what he needed.

  


“Don't worry, baby, I'm going to fuck you senseless.” Negan pushed his leather jacket off, his shirt and jeans came next. He laid his body out over Carl's, submerging them in another press of lips, their nakedness feeling so right no matter where they were. He loved how the meat of him settled into the bone of Carl and how it made him feel like a whole person. “Won't even remember your name when I'm done.”

  


Carl's lips curled into a mischievous smirk and Negan could almost guess what his next words were going to be, verbatim. “I'll believe it when I see it.”

  


“Lets put that smart ass mouth to better use, hm?” He didn't give the teen time to respond, shoving two fingers into Carl's mouth, who immediately responded, sucking on them until they were dripping. A long line of spider silk thin spit stretched and snapped between Carl's lips and Negan's fingers. Negan's free hand lifted one of Carl's long legs up onto his shoulder and pressed the fingers in without warning, living for the slightly pained gasp squeezed out of the boy's lungs. He immediately curled his fingers, nailing his prostate with harsh, fast circles and thrusts.

  


“O-oh my god--!” That blue eye went cherry pie wide and his spine arched with an almost serpentine curve as Negan pulled his strings like a little puppet. Carl's words were coming out in shaky, monosyllabic stutters and breaths and that was music to Negan's fucking ears.

  


“Open up for me, honey, daddy needs to be inside you.” The third finger went in drier than the first two, but if Carl's wanton moan was any indication, he was too far gone to care; Carl would probably be offended if he treated him too nicely anyways. He spit thick into his hand and coated his length before quickly swapping his fingers for his cock, sinking down into the hot silk that felt like home.

  


“Daddy...” Carl simpered, sounding so fragile, already broken and loving being in pieces for his daddy. He reached up, fingers grasping adorably, and looped his bound hands around Negan's neck, pulling the older man closer. Negan leaned in tighter, nearly bending Carl in half, but those tiny hands with blunted nails scratched and pulled, scraping at Negan's back to keep him right where he was.

  


The thing is, Carl talked big, was almost as big a fan of showmanship as Negan was, but when it came down to it, he was delicate and soft, needed to know that Negan loved him when he fucked him into their mattress at night, the springs an off key, grating soundtrack to their love making. So he held the boy close, wrapping strong arms around his lithe body until if felt like one body instead of two. He knew Carl had to be uncomfortable, breathing must be labored, but he wouldn't dare put any space between them.

  


Negan pulled out as far as their position allowed and thrust back in, punching Carl's sensitive rim before bottoming out. He repeated the motion over and over until tears were flowing freely down his boy's cheeks and he couldn't form a single word to save his life, the definition of fucked out bliss. The leather of his belt bit into the back of Negan's neck as he fucked into Carl who was hanging near boneless on him, his small cock slapping his flat stomach with each thrust, leaving sticky trails of precum across his pale skin.

  


“Can you come without daddy having to touch you tonight, baby boy?” He was forcing down his own orgasm with rough hands, waiting, wanting to feel Carl fluttering around him while he came. Negan angled his hips, a slightly different tilt to them, and hit right on the mark making Carl cry out. He clapped a hand over doll perfect lips, stifling his whimpers and moans. “Don't be too loud baby...my wife will be home any minute.”

  


Carl muttered a word, something sounding somewhere close to 'fuck', as he came hard, completely untouched. His eye rolled back and his back seemed to be stuck in a permanent arc as Negan fucked delicious little “uh uh uh” sounds out of him with each hard thrust to his overstimulated prostate. His tears and heaving gasps soon fell away to sobs that wracked his whole, slim body with tremulous shivers.

  


“Please! God—please! Stop! Its too much!” But Carl was stuck, his arms still vulnerably hung around Negan's neck, legs still propped open on broad shoulders. He had no choice but to let Negan take what he wanted without abandon, hanging broken dolly-limp joints about his lover.

  


Carl going slack with his quiet little cries the only sound coming from him, was exactly what Negan was waiting for. Thrusting into Carl's used up body during his come down was Negan's guilty pleasure, like chocolate or a bubble bath before the world went to shit. The boy always _hung_ on him, clinging like Negan was his lifeline in a turbulent, stormy sea. In a fucked up way, it made him feel needed and for some reason it was intimately and ultimately satisfying down to his core. He sat back on his heels, bringing them both up, arms still wrapped tightly about his little angel. The weight of Carl's smaller hips melding perfectly into the cradle of his larger ones was all it took to push him over the edge and Negan was coming hard. He held Carl tighter, bones creaking under the force of it, as orgasm tore a path through his body.

  


Through the haze of post coital high, Negan realized belatedly that he hadn't hurt Carl. He'd managed to let that dark monster hidden deep inside him loose and they had both survived it. He did only what Carl asked him to, and that, surprisingly, had been enough. It didn't just hold the hunger at bay, like a flimsy band-aid on a gaping wound, it quenched the thirst entirely. He wasn't sure how, but this kid coming into his life when he did was perfect. He didn't know what god had deemed him worthy to have this magnificent creature in his life, but he wasn't about to go looking a gift horse in the mouth, so he just bowed his head at night and said his thanks when everything else had fallen silent.

  


“...Daddy...”

  


The whimpered out word brought Negan back to himself and he quickly but carefully lifted Carl off his lap, both of them gasping when his length slipped from Carl's body. With a gentle hand, he uncuffed and cleaned his young lover off with a scrap of clean enough fabric from a mildewy box of quilting supplies. As he tossed it away, he noticed that the print was a yellow gingham with frogs and baby ducks. How fitting for his little baby. They both redressed sluggishly, not really wanting to put the dirty articles of clothing back on, in comparison being naked felt much better.

  


Carl curled in around and on Negan, resting his chest in the older man's lap while his head cushioned by his chest. He wrapped skinny arms around a larger, but trim waist and held on tight. He sighed exhausted and happy as Negan ran his fingers through his hair, untangling it and massaging his scalp. Negan smiled to himself as he looked down at the little bundle of Carl in his arms. Cuddly Carl was just about his favorite, more of that indecipherable need to be needed, to protect and care for something other than himself. The fact that Carl, someone so capable and strong let him felt like a special kind of gift that Negan didn't think he could ever work enough to repay, like no amount of their back and forth could ever put them on equal ground.

  


“Lets get some sleep, baby.” Negan kissed the crown of chocolaty locks resting on his chest.

  


“Mm.” Carl grunted, slightly annoyed, already drifting off.

  


Negan rolled his eyes as he shuffled a few things, mostly clothes and fabric that weren't completely ruined, to make some sort of semblance of a bed for them to lay down on. Carl climbed up and flopped on his chest, wrapping and arm around him.

  


“...like you...a lot.” Carl mumbled into the dingy white of Negan's undershirt, fingers clenching the threadbare material.

  


“ _Love_ you a lot.” Negan smiled soft around the words, knowing he may never hear them back. It didn't matter. He was confident enough in his feelings for the both of them. Call him a sentimental old fool.

  


“I know.” Carl sighed and Negan could feel the cat got the cream smile spread across the boy's face those words always elicited against his chest. He didn't point out how Carl scooted just a little closer into him. His voice was heavy and sleep drunk as he spoke again. “I'm your whole world in a fucked up little picnic basket.”

  


“Ha! You wish.” He snorted a laugh and tightened the arm around Carl ever so slightly. He knew he wasn't fooling either of them. Negan's whole fucking world revolved around this small, one-eyed future serial killer laying on his chest, in his arms.

  


“We both know you like me waaaay more than I like you.” Carl nosed at Negan's jaw, seeking comfort and kisses.

  


“You're the one writhing all over me, practically begging for attention.” Negan gave him what he was looking for, a gentle kiss to the forehead, then tip of the nose, lastly to his sleep soft mouth.

  


“You know you love it.”

  


“So do you.”

  


“Yeah...”

  


 

**Author's Note:**

> There may or may not be another one shot that could be attached to this fic in the works, so if you guys like this and want more, lemme know! I'm really having a blast writing them X3


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